


The flowers of evil

by MadameButterfly94



Category: Fate: The Winx Saga (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Post-Season/Series 01, Romance, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Speculation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameButterfly94/pseuds/MadameButterfly94
Summary: A collection of tiny one-shot that deal with past, present (after the last episode) and what if moments of what was the pre-series Magix elite team made up of Farah (Faragonda), Saul (Saladin), Andreas (Erendor) and Ben (Palladium) , led by the then Headmistress of Alfea Rosalind.The Angst will be predominant and I will try to explore in brief moments the particular relationships between each of them - too often complicated, sometimes unhealthy, always profound.1. I own you [Farah x Rosalind]2. You were my hero [Saul x Andreas]3. You should know [Ben x Andreas x x Rosalind]4. Obedient [Andreas x (Farah/Saul) x Rosalind]
Relationships: Andreas & Rosalind (Fate: The Winx Saga), Andreas/Saul Silva, Farah Dowling/Rosalind, Farah Dowling/Saul Silva
Comments: 32
Kudos: 56





	1. I own you

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [I Fiori del Male](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/761121) by ellacowgirl in Madame_Butterfly. 



Notes:  
\- All one-shots in the collection refer to the events / characters of the TV series, or are inspired by it;  
\- What if? [Rosalind, at the end of the series, does not kill / try to kill Farah, but imprisons her] - femslash - angst  
\- I made this little [fanvideo about Farah](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCJzKY7D1zwssqkI94WhGoKg), if someone is interested;

# 1\. I own you

## [Farah x Rosalind]

The cold that reached there was cloudy, calm, almost delicate in its way of reaching the skin and penetrating almost to the bones. Infamous too.  
She wasn't sure she had felt her arms for several hours - or was it days? - but she could confidently say that he had lost sensitivity to her hands, her fingertips, since those magical ties kept her sealed wrists dangling from the ceiling.  
Or maybe it was the cold mixed with her faded tiredness that completely numbed her, dressed in ruined clothes that certainly did not repair her from the ever lower temperatures that would occur, her hair usually styled in a rigorous and impeccable way partially loose on sore shoulders. Some gray threads intersected between her brown ones, yet not even those hints of wrinkles on her face distorted her innate elegance, her pride that could still shine through.  
She was a prisoner, humiliated, but not yet defeated.

She heard the door open and did not need to pay particular attention to those paced steps to guess who had come to visit her: she would have recognized them in a thousand, despite herself, and after all there was no other individual who could descend into Alfea's basement at the outside of _her_.  
Her only effort that she allowed herself was to raise her brown irises in the direction in which she would soon see her, as if waiting for her at the gate.  
« Oh come on, Farah, don't look at me that way » he provoked her with that authoritative as well as mellifluous tone, a paradox that coexisted in her to such an extent as to deceive her interlocutors. Even after so many years.  
« You locked me up here for sixteen years, don't you think it's legitimate for me to treat you the same? » The cerulean irises turned a glance at the entire debilitated figure of her former pupil, then tilting her head to the side of her almost to finish her evaluation. « Well, more or less ...» Rosalind grinned, as if pretending not to have purposely given Farah a much worse treatment.  
The Dowling had sealed her in a magical trap, it was true, but Rosalind had carefully taken care to chain it hanging from her ceiling by imposing daily physical and mental torture on Farah.  
« And then... » she moved closer to Farah, her face a breath away from that of her other, a hand reached up to touch her face with the back of her fingers, and then passed her fingertips over her her lips ruined her. « You have always been my favorite. » A smirk, her umpteenth smile, while her face was still approaching, she bent to the side to then sink into Farah's hair and neck, causing her an instinctive and unpleasant shiver.  
« You smell the same… but I also noticed it in that pretty grove where you started burying some horrid remains of Burned one. Noble. I couldn't expect anything different from you, after all » she almost blew into Farah ear, aware of a power she was still trying to have over her, very different from her magical one.  
But it was too much.  
« And you still have a sick mind that should be healed. » Lapidary, that tone broken by Farah effort, her voice slightly hoarse, her gaze that now, however, did not have the courage to turn to Rosalind, so damned and excessively close to her.  
She could almost feel it, the smirk that formed on Rosalind's lips, even before she showed herself as she returned with her face in front of Farah.  
« You have become stronger than you have ever been, Farah. But remember... » Suddenly a hold of her squeezed her neck hard, Farah felt short of breath and was forced to part her lips with a moan - a moan that still had, after so many years, the taste of fear. « You still belong to me. »


	2. You were my hero

Notes:  
\- All one-shots in the collection refer to the events / characters of the TV series, or are inspired by it;  
\- What if? [[After the events of the series, Silva is in Solaria prisons and receives a visit from Andreas]] - angst  
\- I made this little [fanvideo about Farah and Saul](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klVpi71lrnQ&lc=UgycH_iwkj0jAXMdbyV4AaABAg), if someone is interested;

# 2\. You were my hero

## [Saul x Andreas]

« How could you ?! » He barked as he jumped up from the prison bench where he had been locked up, his face dazed, his hands gripping the bars as if he had really had to attack his interlocutor.  
« Saul, calm down, I'm- »  
« Calm down ?! » He interrupted him abruptly, his face turning red. « I thought you were dead for sixteen years, Andreas! For sixteen years I raised your son, I looked him in the face thinking about the day I had you... » he fell silent, the words died in his mouth and he looked away from what had been a friend and companion for so long , but in which he kept seeing a ghost, incredulous.  
He had to take that break, he needed it. He inhaled and exhaled deeply as he ran a hand over his face and began pacing nervously around the cell, at least until he turned back to Andreas almost abruptly. « I thought I killed you. Do you have any idea what it meant to me? For Sky ?! »  
« Don't put Sky in the middle of this discussion, that day you decided to betray me and try to kill me! »  
« You were following a madwoman's plan! »  
« A madwoman you've followed all your life too, Saul! And that she wanted to exterminate blood witches, not innocent ones! »  
Silva almost laughed, those nervous laughter that would only like to turn into more screams, more desperation, more anger never vented.  
« Are you accusing me of _not_ knowing something that was hidden from us? From _her_?! » He could no longer see us with anger, Silva, he could hardly recognize who had been his closest friend - a friend who even in that conversation did not seem to want to know, of other reasons, although beyond the bars also his soul was in turmoil.  
« Rosalind always has a plan. She had it for me, she had it for the blood witches and- »  
« So why hide everything from us, huh? And above all, why did you stay away from your son for so many years ?! Do you have any idea what he went through and how he felt alone when I told him what I _thought_ I did to you ?! »  
Time seemed to stop in that exact moment. Andreas remained with his lips parted between his mustache, incredulous, and for the first time since the meeting began, Silva had the impression of having someone in front of him still with a shred of feeling.  
« Did you tell him? » Andreas asked, his tone trying to keep himself composed, but he could only partially do it.  
« Yes. » He admitted with difficulty, inhaling deeply, in the bitter and ephemeral hope that one day he would forget that look, the disappointment and bewilderment painted there, of that boy he considered a son. « I told him I killed you. My best friend. My mate. But do you know what was the most painful thing, Andreas? » He sought her heavenly gaze and found it. After so many years, after feeling dirty and branded for life, in that moment he had the feeling that he could free himself from almost two decades of craving pain. « Tell him _why_ I did it. To tell him, after years in which I had told him of the noble and courageous deeds of a glorious and beloved father, that precisely that father would in reality stain his hands with the blood of innocents. » His lips were trembling but he remained standing there, in front of the other, his comrade in arms, as if those bars did not exist.  
« That day he didn't just lose a father and I a friend, but we both lost our hero. And this ... this _nothing_ could change it. Not your sudden reappearance, not any excuse or goddamn plan Rosalind may have. »  
He turned on his back again, unable to continue that brooding confession for sixteen years.  
His hands on his hips, the walk in an unspecified direction, a wall against which he would have gladly banged his head in order to forget, and the deafening silence that seemed to pierce him like never before.  
« I also lost someone that day » finally spoke, Andreas, King of Eraklyon. « A son, yes, but also someone who was _much_ dearer to me than a friend. Much _more_ than a brother. » He didn't turn around yet, Silva, while he took in that information as if it were a distant echo. He felt only anger, anger and other anger fueled by that statement that yes, maybe he had always been aware, but that in that moment he had no power.  
« What do you hope to achieve, Andreas? » He asked, still with his back to him, disheartened as he had never felt, yet still capable of maintaining his integrity - a soldier, yes, but an honest and just soldier. « What do you expect these words to change after what you've - what we've - done? » Now he turned to look for him, to meet that gaze in a different light, even with the muscles still so tense and unaccustomed to perceiving such seriousness in the other - he had never been really serious, Andreas, not even when he got married and put about family, what years had really changed him?  
« Let us get back together, Saul, like in the old days. That we are on the same side, that we fight together, that we support each other, that - »  
« Are you mad? After all that Rosalind has done and is doing? » He Almost burst out laughing again, his hands on his hips and the look of someone who doesn't believe what he's hearing, his head shaking with disapproval. « I will not consent to this, Andreas. And I'm sure not even Farah will. »  
It was the other, now, who let out a sort of small laugh, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling.  
« Farah... » he sighed, almost, in a bitter resignation that had the flavor of a past that was never really closed, which it still knew how to annoy and intrude where he didn't want to. « Farah is dead, Saul. » Deliberately brutal, deliberately without any kind of hesitation.  
Disappointed. Silva felt empty in an instant, his eyes wide open, his mouth parted.  
« … what? » He mumbled him, and in that question Andreas would have liked to rage with a hundred and more stabs, each more painful than the one his friend had inflicted on him sixteen years earlier.  
« Rosalind killed her. She will no longer be a problem for any of us. »  
He fell. His knees gave way, coming to the sound with a dull thud, his arms dropped at his sides.  
There, helpless as if ready for a capital execution, Silva stared at the void in front of him and Andreas drowned in that void.


	3. You Should know

Notes:  
\- All one-shots in the collection refer to the events / characters of the TV series, or are inspired by it;  
\- What if? [After the events of the series, Ben finds himself blackmailed by Rosalind and Andreas] - angst - sentimental  


# 3\. You should know

## [Ben x Andreas x x Rosalind]

He couldn't take it anymore. He had tried to restrain hisself, tried to rationalize that absurd situation in which he sat at the same table as the two people he most hated in the whole magical dimension.  
Ben had tried, with all his heart, to hold back the urge to flee or leave indignant because he knew that doing so would not help his two true friends, yet there were limits that even rationality could not bear, not when feelings were more forceful than any other magic.  
« Is this the punishment you have worked out for me? » He asked him suddenly, in the middle of a speech by Rosalind that he hadn't listened to in the least, interrupting her without raising his hairless head. Andreas frowned, looked for an expression in his mentor at least angry, but found only satisfaction - because yes, that was where she was waiting for him, even if she let him continue. « Let me hear what absurd ideas do you have for this place, which I love, for a dear friend in prison and another that you have surely locked up to torture, knowing that I would resist to the limit to understand how to help them? » Now he looked up, but he did it to Andreas, not to Rosalind - he would have expected everything from her by now, but from him... paradoxically, he still expected something different from his old friend.  
How naive.  
« Of course not, dear. What I'm giving you is a redemption. We don't want to waste your talent, after all you have always been in my elite too. » A false candor, a false sincerity that obviously Ben was far from believing was real.  
« Bullshit,» he retorted with a grit he didn't even know he had: if there was one thing he just couldn't bear it was that they took him for a fool. He wasn't. He would never be and now yes, he turned to Rosalind, even though he was fucking afraid of her - like everyone, probably. « Saul is in jail only so that Andreas won't have to fight him again, and probably lose in front of everyone, and you would never kill Farah - not with the ability to keep doing her… God only knows what you've always done to her. » He gesticulated in horror, taking his gaze away from Rosalind even for a moment, the one necessary not to go further with that question. She, on the other hand, did not flinch - in fact, she seemed even more pleased.  
« I'm here because you have no public reason to get me out of the way. But you would find it, I know you would, because I won't fold and- »  
« This is where you're wrong, Ben,» she interrupted him now, her elbows on the desk, her hands clasped to her chin as she leaned there. « You have something that is worth much more than your principles and nostalgic revivals. You have two children. And I don't have to remind you that those two children are now at our mercy, are they? »  
Ben swallowed. He should have expected it. He would have to get Sam and Terra to flee somewhere - anywhere - so they weren't there, constantly in danger, and he was constantly blackmailed.  
At the thought of losing them his blood froze in his veins and Rosalind knew this very well.  
Ben lowered his head again as his hands began to sweat excessively and inside him he cried.  
What were the limits of love?  
« Good boy. »  
Were there any limits?  
« You should know. » He mumbled, almost to himself, almost without an interlocutor.  
Then he looked up and those dark eyes looked beyond the lenses of his glasses for Andreas's celestial ones.  
« You should know what it means not to be able to protect the one you love. » A stab. A stab that Ben wasn't sure would come, but that he might have been amazed to know was immediate.  
He hadn't resisted that torture for long - psychological, of course, but no less harsh than any physical - but Andreas? That he had spent sixteen years fighting them, how long would he last?  
With that question the King of Eraklyon faltered and, incredibly, Rosalind with him.


	4. Obedient [Andreas x (Farah/Saul) x Rosalind]

**Notes:**  
\- All one-shots in the collection refer to the events / characters of the TV series, or are inspired by it;  
\- What if? [ **Before** the events of the series, when Rosalind was Alfea's Headmistress and Andreas her protégé] - angst - sentimental

# 4\. Obedient

## [Andreas x (Farah/Saul) x Rosalind]

The cerulean irises scanned the gardens surrounding Alfea from the window, his hands held firmly behind the backs, his posture upright, impeccable, the musculature already well defined under the uniform.   
He was a perfect Specialist and soldier, Andreas of Eraklyon, a perfect war machine and she knew it.   
Yes, of course she knew.   
« I don't think you came here on a courtesy visit, dear. » The Headmistress urged him, intent on arranging a series of trophies and awards on a bulletin board next to the desk. On the opposite side of that office, the young Specialist kept his face serious and his jaw hard.   
« Why _her_? » He asked apparently nothing, apparently without subject. But they both knew very well who he was referring to, Rosalind was not long in showing one of the smiles between her wrinkles. « Because _I like her._ Isn't that enough for you as justification? » Always ironic, always on the edge between ambiguity and concreteness. Cryptic, in her way of answering and not answering at the same time, able to manipulate what is necessary to bring the young man to express himself with much more emphasis than apparent composure - he turned almost abruptly towards her, although so far away, with the impetus of the irrepressible instinct.   
« She is compassionate. And she is not aggressive. If you really want to train us against the burned ones we need warriors and she won't be able to- »   
« Andreas, » she stopped him almost immediately, and he obeyed. He fell silent, no matter how hard it cost him, but he paid attention to her - now no, she wasn't kidding, although her tone hadn't changed. « Is it her relationship with _your little friend_ that worries you? » She caught it in the spot, hit it right and could almost feel the pain he suffered in that exact moment.   
She had watched them.   
She had watched them _all_.   
And she didn't need to be a mind fairy to feel his undisguised anger and pathetic jealousy.   
She smiled again, and like the most lethal poison she went to approach him with a composed and not at all hasty pace.   
« Don't worry, I've already thought of _everything_. You will have your partner day and night. »   
« And Farah? »   
« She will be busy with me, you don't have to worry. But what I expect from you is discipline. Respect. Execution of orders, regardless of your emotions - was I clear enough? »   
« Yes. » He asserted still angrily, nevertheless finding the point of a sword under his chin, thus forced to raise his cerulean irises again in those of the Headmistress and mentor.   
« I didn't hear right » an order, just like all the others. An authority that was impossible to oppose, eager to subject minds not yet strong enough, formed, to reject it.   
« Yes, Madam » he said more confidently. She smiled, again, but without lowering her sword.   
« Bravo » she mellifluous sayd, while she walked away the necessary to give him the back to approach just that case, which she went to push aside with a wave of the hand, thus revealing a series of stairs.   
« Come now, it's time for your special training. »   
Andreas turned his gaze one last time beyond that window, just enough to catch a glimpse of those two figures walking in the garden side by side - again - and smiling at each other - again.   
Then, finally, the hard gaze shifted to those stairs and with a military step he went down: he would have Saul, one day. And that same day Farah would perish.


End file.
